


and they wished the war would end

by Hathanta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, complete angst, everything sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hathanta/pseuds/Hathanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“We’re in a war, Sirius.”<br/>“Yeah, well – can’t we forget about it for a day?” <br/>“The war won’t just forget about us.” <br/>“Well I wish it fucking would.” </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	and they wished the war would end

“We should go to the flicks or something.”

Sirius is round at Remus’ flat again, injured again. He’s slumped on the sofa, sporting a fractured wrist, and a fading black eye, and making Remus’ dirty socks levitate around the room.

“What?” Remus replies a moment later, as the words finally sink through the levels of anxiety in his brain, and permeate the bed rock of his mind, which had been intent on reading again through the last missive from Dumbledore.

“You know. The muggle movies.”

“Are you –” he doesn’t say serious, he’s made that error too many times, “Are you really suggesting we put ourselves – and muggles in danger like that?”

“No,” Sirius growls, “I’m suggesting we do something fun. Something _together._ ”

“We’re in a war, Sirius.”

“Yeah, well – can’t we forget about it for a day?”

“You – the war won’t just _forget_ about us.”

“Well I wish it fucking would.” Remus’ sock hits the wall and plops to the floor like it’s been hit with a killing curse. How appropriate. “I wish we could just have fun again, and not have to worry all the time.”

“We’re not children anymore,” Remus says tiredly, and he is tired, and he doesn’t want to be strong, because he wishes that too. More than anything.

“Oh fuck you!” Sirius turns and leans on the back of the sofa, glaring at Remus, “I know we’re not children, I know we’re meant to be able to deal with this stuff – I mean, hell, we’ve got no fucking choice, it’s just thrown at us every day, but I just –” Sirius drops his forehead onto the edge of the sofa, his uninjured hand curled into a fist, “I’m tired,” he echoes Remus’ thoughts, “and I wish James was here. Where I could see him – I know I’m keeping him safe, and keeping myself safe keeps him safe – I know that, but I want to be able to fight, with him at my side, not just hide and keep – secrets. And,” the words pour forth like a burst dam, “I wish people trusted you,” _I wish I trusted you,_ “because they should know – you’re good,” _please tell me you’re good,_ “because I need you.” Sirius’s voice sinks to a whisper, and he slides back onto the sofa. “I need you.”

Remus looks silently at the back of the sofa. He wants to say – everything. But what would that do? Just inform Sirius that Remus is as lost as he is. But those words burn into him. _I need you._ As though he’s saying, _forgive me._ And Remus wants to tell him to fuck off, go cry on someone else, because Remus has had it up to here with people throwing sideways glances at him – interrogating him and watching him while Sirius just stands there, shifting from foot to foot, and he just wishes this war would be over. He just wishes this fucking war would be over, so they could relax, and go to the movies.

“Sirius,” he breathes the name, the name he’s said countless times over. He gets up and walks around the sofa, and finds the big dog curled on it, looking up at him with sad dog-eyes. “Sirius,” he kneels and ruffles his hands into the dog’s fur, resting their foreheads together. Now words fail him, like they always do, but he steels himself, and just opens his mouth to speak, hoping for the best.

“I know. I know, this is – this is absolute shit. And I don’t know what to tell you, because we _are_ in a war and it _won’t_ just – go away. But I wish it would – everything – I wish everything was better. I’m tired too. I’m so fucking tired, and I’m worried about Lily and James, and there’s nothing we can do. Shit – you know this, I’m just repeating myself over,” the words stop abruptly, and his eyes are stinging. “Please turn back.”

“Why us? Remus – it’s not fair.”

He doesn’t say, life isn’t fair – he doesn’t remind Sirius that if life was fair, a werewolf would never have bitten an innocent child, instead he says, “I know. I don’t know why us. But it is us, and it’s shit.” He speaks into Sirius’ hair, and the man moves, sliding down until he’s kneeling, half on Remus, face pressed into his neck.

“You –” the words come out slightly muffled, “You _are_ good,” he says it like he needs to believe it, “you _are_ on our side – you are, you are,” his voice breaks on the last word. He’s shaking in Remus’ arms, and Remus presses his nose into his hair.

“You better fucking believe it,” he says, and Sirius laughs shakily, and suddenly they’re kissing, needily, sloppily.

“I love you,” Remus says, as they rest their foreheads together, because it’s true – it is.

And Sirius says, “I hate this fucking war.” 


End file.
